Uncomfortable, conflicted, guilty, skeptical,
proud, heartbroken. These were some of my feelings as I slowly moved from room
to room in the large War Remnants Museum in the heart of Ho Chi Minh City.
It’s hard to describe the feeling of
standing next to, even rubbing shoulders with a lanky older Vietnamese man as
we both stare into a black and white photograph of a horribly disfigured child
featured prominently against an orange wall signifying the cause of the child’s
birth defect. It was easy to disregard the pain and suffering of war depicted
in charts and documents showcased throughout the corridors, but the pictures
were inescapable.
Although the data and the presentation
were heavily skewed, some facts are inescapable. It’s numbing to bear witness
to the horrors we can commit against our fellow man. Chemical gasses, tiger
cages, nipple clamps, water torture, beatings, rape… These instruments of
terror were used by common men, not psychopathic murderers or one dark executioner,
and they continue to be used today.
Although museums are supposed to offer
information and answers, I left with more questions than when I arrived.
The beautiful yet petite opera house
seemingly in the middle of the road is a testimony to the French influence
which appears more noticeably in Vietnam than Cambodia. Unfortunately, there
were no performances while I was in the city, but I hummed my own arias as I
strolled around the large boulevards surrounding the venue.
While most things seemed bigger, more
beautiful, cleaner, and more orderly in Vietnam than Cambodia, this market in
the center of the city was a partial exception. It was quite comparable to
Phnom Penh’s Central Market, but I’d dare to say that Cambodia’s is bigger!
Also, kudos to Cambodia for its MUCH friendlier and more efficient immigration
staff.
I had it my way more than once while in
Saigon. While most of the backpackers at my hostel were all about the pho and
other cheap rice-laden local dishes, I got my fill of burgers, fries, pizza, ice
cream, and slushies. It was surprising to me that the socialist republic had
many more western options that its “democratic” neighbor to the west. However,
McDonalds was notably absent.
Unsure what to do with my Sunday
morning and having a few things I wanted to pray about, I attended mass at
Notre Dame Cathedral, another French remnant built in the 1880s. While mass can
be quite confounding for a protestant, I enjoyed the opportunity to sing a few
responses and pray in a more reverent environment than Cambodia has offered me
in the way of churches.
I had my picture taken several times on
this bridge. First, I was in the background of some photo shoot for some
too-cool-for-school hooligans (or as my grandma would call them, crackpot
teens). I was afraid they would throw their bicycles at me or look at me. I’m
not sure which would have been worse. At the other end of the bridge, a young
guy approached me and asked to take a picture with me. My instinct whenever
this kind of thing happens (someone talks to me) is to put my hands in my
pockets. (No, I’m not THAT weird, I just fear I’m about to get robbed.) I asked
him why he wanted to take a picture with me, and he said he thought it would
look beautiful. How could I disagree with that? His friend took our picture,
and I escaped with my camera, phone, wallet, and passport.
Strolling through a park near my
hostel, I kept noticing large clumps of Vietnamese youngsters hanging around
one or two foreign-looking people. At first I thought it was some kind of sad
prostitution ploy (because I was constantly being asked if I wanted a lady –
and these were mostly young girls talking to older white men), but later I
found myself as the one surrounded by all the girls (and a few guys). It turns
out they are university students who like to spend their free time practicing
English in the park with native speakers.
After feeling lonely traveling by
myself for a few days, it was so nice to have people to talk to. There must have
been about 15 people grouped around me at one point, all listening intently. I
told them I had never felt that popular in my life!
Their kindness, humor, and dedication
to learning was really awesome. It was a great opportunity to speak with locals
and have some of the questions I had been building up answered in a low-risk
setting. While my initial experiences with the embassy, immigration officers,
and war museum made me feel uncertain about Vietnam, it was this interaction
with these students that made me feel welcome, comfortable, and endeared to
Cambodia’s neighbor on the east.
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